


Ariadne

by pixie_rings



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Red String of Fate, Vaginal Sex, Voltron Secret Santa 2016, background klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 18:05:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9001045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/pseuds/pixie_rings
Summary: Everyone is born with a red thread around their finger, that leads to the love of their life. Except... Shiro’s is silver, and leads up into the sky.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bekkaa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bekkaa).



> For [Beka](http://bekkaa.tumblr.com/). Happy Voltron Secret Santa 2016! (I'm sorry I don't know your Ao3 username.)

Most everyone is born with a thread around their left little finger. It is red, and it leads to someone else: sometimes it's two people, sometimes it's someone of the same gender, but the most important part is that it is tied to someone you will love as a lover. You can only see your own thread, and you can follow it, and only it. Your thread is yours alone, and you and the person on the end of your thread are destined for each other. In theory, anyway.

Shirogane Takashi was an unusual boy in many ways. He was born with a thread, just like most people in the world, but his thread was peculiar. As soon as he was old enough to understand the thread, he told his mother what it was like: his thread was silvery, and it led beyond the stars. It trailed off into the sky, far beyond where he could see it.

His mother thought he was making things up, but he was insistent, and Takashi was an otherwise honest and humble boy, not one for tall tales and empty boasting. She gradually came to believe him, even though her reality was much simpler and her thread had lead to Takashi's father, before its untimely snapping.

Once Takashi fully learnt what the thread actually stood for, in a very special lesson at school when he was six, he would stay up late, staring up at the sky, watching where his thread disappeared into the heavens. He wondered, with childlike simplicity, if his Beholden was an angel, or someone from far beyond this Earth, like Sailor Moon. He spent so much time gazing at the stars, that he fell in love with them, and did everything he could to reach them, thread or no thread.

* * *

He'd been twenty-one when he and Matt had talked about their strings.

“Mine leads across the Atlantic,” he explained. “I haven't met them yet. I hope it's a guy, though. It feels like it'd be a guy.”

Shiro circled his finger, not feeling the intangible knot even though he could see it. “Mine... leads up.”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “Are they on the floor above?” he joked.

Shiro shook his head. “No, they're... up. Way up. In space, apparently.”

There was a moment of silence in which Matt blinked. Then he started laughing. “Dude, really? What are they, an alien?” He was bent double on the bed, clutching his stomach as he laughed.

Shiro's face turned red. “Stop being a dick! I wouldn't lie about this!” He sighed. “It's never been something easy to explain.”

He'd had girlfriends and a boyfriend, and sooner or later it always came to threads. They'd never believed him either.

“I guess they're out there somewhere,” he mused. “I don't think I'll ever meet them.”

Matt sobered up at the melancholy in Shiro's voice, and the wistfulness on his face. “Whoa, you're serious, huh?”

“It's way too out there to lie about,” Shiro said. “I just... it's so strange. In movies you only ever see red strings, and they always lead somewhere reachable. But mine? It's silver and it goes into freaking _space_. How am I even supposed to reach them if we've never left the Solar System?”

Matt shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. Wish I could help.” He fidgeted with his own little finger, biting his lip. “Like... is that why you joined the Garrison?”

Shiro chuckled. “Partly. I mean... I have to reach the stars before I can reach _them_ , right?”

* * *

The only consolation in this endless succession of horror and death was that his thread no longer led solely up. No, it would change with the direction of the ship, glowing gently, a familiar and desperately needed comfort in the bottomless darkness that was the Arena.

At first, he'd wondered if he could escape, and find them. Then he'd hoped they would come and save him. But gradually, he'd thought less and less about the person on the other end of the thread, except for the fact it would probably snap before they ever got to meet him.

* * *

He stopped in his tracks in the castle's huge main hall. He stared at his little finger, and then up at the stairs. It didn't disappear into the sky, like it did on every planet he'd visited, but it led up the stairs, into the depths of the castle.

“Shiro?” Keith asked. “What is it?”

He took a breath, held it, let it out. “They're... here.”

“Who?” Lance asked worriedly, eyes darting around the hall.

“My... my Beholden,” Shiro murmured. The three he barely knew exchanged bewildered looks, but Keith gasped.

“They're _here_?! We found the right planet?!”

Keith knew. Shiro had told him a long time ago, when a younger Keith had confessed that the person on the other end of his oddly purple thread _hated_ him. Shiro nodded, looking up at the staircase.

His feet went on their own. Heedless of whatever dangers might lay in the dark, he hurried, at a flat-out run, following where his string lead him like Theseus through the Labyrinth. He reached a circular room, the others close behind.

“It's some sort of... control room,” Pidge said, peering at a panel in the centre of the room.

With a hiss and a billowing cloud of cold vapour, a device emerged from the floor, similar to a sleep pod. Shiro looked at his hand, and the thread led straight to it. He could see the silhouette of a figure through the glass, but no details, and his hand hovered, not quite brave enough to touch, but craving knowledge of the person within the pod.

Then the glass dissolved, and Shiro's breath felt like it had been punched from his lungs.

The woman within was beautiful in a way he'd never imagined, even in his wildest dreams. Her skin was a dark, rich brown, her hair snow-pale and cloud-like around her, her lips plump and full. Her eyelashes lay delicately, like snowflakes, on the curves of her cheeks.

Her eyes opened with a gasp, she reached forward, her body following her movement.

“Father!”

Shiro opened his arms, and she fell against his chest, slim, willowy, her skin and clothes slightly chilled against his remaining fingertips.

His heart was pounding, so loud she could probably hear it with her strangely elfin ears. He was trembling, and he had no idea what to do. He'd never expected this moment to even arrive.

The woman raised her head, looked him in the eye. Her eyes were breathtaking, like clear blue skies in the height of summer, her pupils fuchsia, and they took a moment to focus on him.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“I... my name is Shiro. I don't know where you are, we just got here, too.”

She straightened, stepping away from him, away from his arms, and it took all his self-control to not clutch at her, pull her gently back against him where it felt like she belonged. The thread around his little finger was shorter than it had ever been, and it stood out, brilliantly silver, against the dark skin of her own finger. He swallowed.

“Your ears... they're bizarre,” she said, squinting at them.

He blinked. “Uh... sorry?”

She shook her head. “What are you doing in my castle?”

“A giant, blue lion brought us here,” Lance supplied helpfully with a shrug.

The woman pressed a hand to her mouth. “If that is so...” She headed to the console in the middle of the room, pressing her hands to it, and holoscreens flickered into existence.

“Ok, that's how that works,” Pidge said. The woman gasped in horror.

“Oh no... oh no...”

Shiro instinctively when to her side, but kept his hands to himself. “Is something wrong?”

A distraction appeared in the form of the second sleep pod emerging, and revealing a man with spectacularly fiery ginger hair and an impressive moustache.

“Coran!”

The man stopped his banter with Lance and looked at the woman. “Princess?”

“We've... been asleep for ten thousand years,” she said. She pressed a delicate hand to her forehead, her face drawn by deep pain. “Father... Planet Altea, our entire civilisation... gone forever.”

Coran drew in a deep breath, stepping forward. “Allura...”

So that was her name. Shiro closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to savour it. _Allura_... the name of the person he belonged to, his star princess from childhood daydreams. Turned out she was a _literal_ star princess. He could barely believe it.

“Zarkon!” she said angrily. “He destroyed everything!”

Something flashed in Shiro's mind, something vivid and horrific which filled him with dread. “Zarkon... I know him!”

Allura turned to him. “He's... alive? It's been ten thousand years!”

“I don't... know how, but he is. I was his prisoner.”

She gave him a sorrowful look. “What a nightmarish time you must have been through,” she murmured, and Shiro had to look away. For some reason, though her concern should have brought him comfort, it made him feel weak, and unworthy.

* * *

From that moment on, everything was a whirlwind of madness the likes of which Shiro could never have conceived even in the most fanciful boyhood games. He was piloting a giant mecha lion in outer space, a mecha lion which combined with four others to make a gigantic robot warrior, and he was currently living in a space castle on another planet with two aliens, one of which was the woman his string of fate was tied to.

This was a tall tale his mother _definitely_ wouldn't believe.

For a while, he'd been too busy to even contemplate broaching the subject of their interwoven destinies. Fighting the Galra, training, the castleship being taken over... it was hectic, to say the least, and though the thread was ignored, it was never forgotten. Sometimes, when he was out there, seeing it, remembering where it led, made him determined to come back.

And Allura never mentioned it, either. She was hyperfocused on her task, and he understood that completely. Zarkon needed to be taken down, and they were the only ones that could do it. They both had duties that came first, a discussion about the string and the future it foretold for them could wait a little longer.

He found himself, in rare moments of respite, watching her, studying her movements, her expressions, her mannerisms. Her presence calmed him, calmed the raging tide his mind fought to keep at bay, and he gravitated as much towards this as towards her for predestined reasons. When she would raise her head curiously, he would simply smile, and if she found his presence a surprise, she never voiced it. She probably understood why he was there, after all. They'd get to it, eventually, the conversation they needed to have.

 

He was trying to find her. It was a habit he didn't think he needed to shake, as drawn to her instinctively as he was. He found her in the kitchen, with Coran, and he heard her sigh.

“I can't fathom why he's always there,” she said. Shiro stopped in his tracks. Eavesdropping was decidedly poor taste, but he had the suspicion she was talking about him. Who else could she be talking about?

“Perhaps he's smitten with you, Princess,” Coran said, sounding amused. Allura scoffed.

“I can't for the life of me imagine why, we barely know each other,” she replied. “Unless it's merely some superficial attraction, like Lance's. He's far too mature to act like Lance, but still... he's a male of breeding age, and I believe I am the only person here close to him in age. Well... in relation to the different ways of counting years, anyway.”

“'A male of breeding age'?” Coran repeated incredulously.

“How exactly does one refer to young human males? As men?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, Princess. Anyway... I don't believe anyone would begrudge you a _distraction_. You work very hard.”

“Oh, Coran, please,” she said, as if the very idea were ludicrous. “He is certainly _attractive_ , but I have a duty to the cause. Imagine if it were to end badly? You know how humans let their emotions do the thinking, we could never defeat Zarkon then. I cannot risk the harmony of the team because of some one-off tryst.”

Shiro's eyes widened. A one-off tryst? What was she even talking about?

Not even bothering to keep his footsteps unheard, he turned on his heel and left, his mind swimming. What Allura had said made no sense. Theirs could never be a one-off thing... could it? The thread didn't stop you from loving others, especially if you couldn't reach the person on the other end for whatever reason, but there was a link there, the knowledge that the universe had chosen someone for you, the right person. It could never be a one-night stand, it could never be just sex for some sort of petty relief.

“Shiro!”

He stopped, her voice cutting through his thoughts like a bright blade of light through darkness. He clenched his fists and turned, unable to prevent a frown from creasing his brow. She looked concerned.

“Did you hear?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said tersely. “I heard.”

She sighed, pressing her knuckles to her mouth. “I'm terribly sorry, I shouldn't have been talking about you like that. I do respect you, Shiro, and while I _do_ find you attractive, I would never jeopardise the mission or our reputations to act upon it.”

He shook his head. “That's not the issue at all!” He stared at her hand, at where he saw the thread around her finger, silvery and beautiful, and she followed his gaze in confusion.

“Then what is?”

“I... why would it be a one-time thing?” he asked. “Allura... we have an entire _future_ together.”

Her eyes snapped to his face, wearing a mixture of bewilderment and wariness. “What?”

His frown deepened. “Why would you fight it? It's fate, isn't it?”

She was looking at him with genuine worry now, as if he was insane. “Shiro, I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Gently, wincing slightly at the way she stiffened, he took her hand, circled her pinky where he could see the thread. “It's there. It's our thread. Can't you see it?”

She snatched her hand away. “There is no thread.”

It was like stepping into freezing rain. He stared at her in disbelief. “Allura... can't you see your thread?”

“Shiro, perhaps you need to rest...” she said cautiously. “We should get Coran to take a look at you, I'm certain you haven't been sleeping all that well lately...”

He shook his head again. “I'm not tired! I'm not crazy!” He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and when he opened his eyes again, she still looked concerned, as if he might lash out at her. It was the most terrible expression she could ever have worn while looking at him.

His pain was hard to rein in, but he managed. “I'm... sorry, Princess,” he said tonelessly. “It was a momentary lapse of judgement. I'm sorry to have startled you.”

“Shiro, wait...”

But he left, unable to look at her and see the fear and confusion in her eyes and trust himself to not break down.

* * *

The revelation she had no idea they were bound together was hard to take. It hurt to think about her, hurt to see her, hurt to have to talk to her because of Voltron, because of the mission, because of his duty. Though he tried to be civil, he hated how his tone was curt with her, how he avoided her gaze unless completely necessary. He did as she ordered, gave his advice, but that was it. He couldn't put warmth in his voice, no matter how hard he tried.

And the others noticed, as well.

“Shiro, are you ok?”

He was surprised that the person who was asking with such sincerity was Hunk, but then again, Hunk cared a lot about everyone. He nodded with a quick and hopefully convincingly reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

Hunk frowned slightly. “It's just... you and Allura have... you know, you're not talking. We've all kind of... noticed, and, um, we're kind of worried.”

Shiro's face dropped. “Everything is...”

The problem was, everything was _not_ ok. Everything was the opposite of ok. It was hard to deal with a broken heart when it had been shattered by something that was supposed to keep it safe. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I... Allura and I...” He stared at his hand, at the thread, at how it trailed off into the castleship, a permanent reminder of where she was at every moment. It felt more like a shackle that a safety net, at the moment.

Hunk sat down. “Is it about your string?”

Shiro nodded, but didn't elaborate. Making others, especially the ones he was supposed to lead and protect, shoulder his burden felt wrong, unnatural, like some sort of betrayal of their trust and admiration. He was supposed to be a fearless and decisive leader, wasn't it? He was supposed to be able to hide his issues better than this. He'd successfully kept the encroaching darkness in his mind a secret, why couldn't he do the same with this?

“Alteans can't see the string,” he said, his mouth on autopilot. Hunk winced.

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah.”

“So you... told her? Did you explain it?”

“I think she thinks I'm completely insane.” Shiro sighed. “Please... don't talk to her about it. Don't bring it up. I can deal with this myself.”

Hunk frowned, but nodded slowly. “I get it.” He stood. “And, you know... just because you're the only actual human adult doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time. You can trust us, Shiro. You're our friend, not just our leader.”

* * *

Allura was deeply troubled. She, of course, hadn't meant for Shiro to overhear such a tasteless conversation, but that wasn't even the issue. The discussion that had followed left her profoundly perturbed, and concerned about him. The very idea of a thread joining them in some manner was preposterous, but... even though she was worried about his state of mind, she was also worried about this divide between them.

She had grown subconsciously used to Shiro's presence, coming to even expect it in her rare moments of quiet time. His presence was solid, reassuring, reliable, calming, in a way Coran's wasn't. She'd been beginning to wonder whether she would ever find the courage to rest her head on his shoulder, just once, but now she supposed that would never happen. And to her surprise, she found she missed him. She couldn't settle without Shiro nearby, being a comfort simply by occupying space in the universe.

Not to mention she had a strange feeling when looking upon him, and feeling his presence... a feeling of familiarity she didn't feel with any of the other Paladins. It was almost as if she'd seen Shiro before, somehow, met him before: gazes locked in a crowd, perhaps, or a face in the background of a phantasmagorical projection. She knew she'd never seen him before that chance meeting all those months ago, it was impossible, he hadn't even been _born_ before she'd gone into stasis and Earth certainly hadn't been advanced enough for intergalactic travel... She'd put her feeling down to wishful thinking and buried it.

 

The last thing she remembered was feeling bone-achingly exhausted, as if she could barely spare enough energy to blink. Around her, the Balmera flourished again, and she smiled weakly. Her eyes slipped closed and she let the blackness envelop her with a feeling of utter relief.

The Balmera had taken so much out of her, more than she'd realised. It was alive again, and that was what was important, of course, and it wouldn't have mattered if she hadn't made it through. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, book discarded beside her. That was when her door opened with a hiss.

Presuming Coran, she quickly closed her eyes and evened her breathing, feigning sleep. She almost frowned when she didn't hear the sound of retreating footsteps, however. Opening her eye a sliver, just enough to see, she saw a broad black-clad back fetching the chair from her dresser.

Shiro sat at her bedside with a sigh, and she quickly schooled her features into the neutrality of slumber. Why was he there? Did it have something to do with the string he'd spoken of? Though his presence was welcome, she remained slightly wary.

“You need to take more care of yourself,” he murmured, sighing again. “Don't pull stunts like that. My heart can't take it.”

She felt warmth around her hand, and realised he had taken it, so delicate, so gentle. She stayed still, heart hammering, wondering what he would say next.

“I know you don't believe in the strings,” he said. “I know you think I'm crazy. But it's there. It's always been there, since I was born, tying me to you, slowly leading me to you. It means so much to me to have found you, to know you're this wonderful, incredible person, so brave and beautiful and selfless and... I don't want to lose you. Even if you don't love me in the same way, even if you hate me... I can't lose you. I've lost so many things already, I can't lose you as well.”

He raised her hand, kissed the base of her little finger, and softly placed it back on the bed.

“Hey, don't you guys tell her,” he whispered. She heard the mice chitter in agreement, his footsteps leave, the hiss of the door as it opened and closed.

Immediately she sat up, the phantom touch of his lips burning hot on her finger, her heart pounding. She turned to the mice, stared at them, unable to figure out the tangle of emotions welling inside her.

“He said... he said he loved me,” she murmured. Yimi squeaked his agreement, and Allura buried her face in her hands, trembling slightly.

Everything was so overwhelming, his sincerity had been so profound... she had no idea what to do.

* * *

Things subtly changed after that. Shiro no longer seemed distant and in pain, but resigned. He smiled more, and at her, but there was a soft sadness in his smile, like he was looking at something beautiful that caused great sorrow. For some reason, it made her heart ache.

She spent a great deal of time watching him when he wasn't looking. Looking made her realise she wanted to know the man beneath the scar and the broad shoulders that carried far too heavy a burden. She wanted to know his joys and his sorrows, his strengths and weaknesses, all the tiny things that made Shiro _Shiro_ , not just the Black Paladin. She'd never felt like this before.

She knew what it was. And it _terrified_ her. It was both an unnecessary distraction and a dangerous liability, in the middle of a war where the other side would stop at nothing. She cared deeply for the younger Paladins, and loved Coran like a father, but _Shiro_... Shiro, she could feel with every passing cycle, almost with every breath she took, was taking up a place in her heart no one ever had before.

And yet... there was still the issue of the “thread”. She had to investigate. Shiro's feelings were sincere, and his belief in this supernatural connection appeared absolute... was he right? Could she just not see it?

Or were these new, frightening feelings simply making her doubt herself?

“Lance... may I ask you a question?”

Lance blinked. He looked shocked for a moment, and then hitched on his characteristically ridiculous grin he imagined was charming, one eyebrow rising.

“Princess, you can ask me all the questions you want,” he said. She fought down her distaste and sat, hands folded demurely in her lap.

“This is serious,” she said. Lance straightened, and to her pleasant surprise his expression sobered.

“Ok. Shoot.”

“Do you know anything about a... a thread?” she asked tentatively. Lance's eyes widened.

“Oh, you mean the String of Fate?” He grinned. “Yeah, of course! Most of us have it! Hunk's is tied to someone back on Earth he hasn't met yet, and mine is...” He cleared his throat, face colouring even as his expression soured. “Mine doesn't matter. Shiro's is...” He faltered again, and this time his face drained of colour. “Uh...”

“I already know,” she murmured. Her fingers began twisting, the only outlet for her nerves. “We... discussed it. I didn't believe him.”

Lance winced. “Ouch. It explains his mood. But like... can't you see it?”

Allura shook her head. “Is it really there? It's not just some joke?”

Lance looked horrified. “Hey, strings are serious business! They connect you to the person you're destined to be with, and...” He looked down at his hand, rubbing the base of his little finger with a scowl. “And sometimes they're a load of crap, but still...” He grinned at her. “Shiro's a good guy to be matched with.”

She stood, shaking her head again. “Alteans do not believe in fate. We have left such superstitions to less advanced societies.”

Lance shrugged. “Hey, doesn't change that the string is there, whatever you believe.”

He was right, of course, but she would never admit it. It was something for her alone to know, and she was going to keep it that way.

* * *

_“I'm not leaving you!”_

_“You have to!”_

Shiro had had plenty of moments of terror in his life. Even just putting his head on the pillow and allowing himself to sleep was a prelude to horror. But this... this was worse, far worse than anything that had ever happened to him.

She'd thrown him across the docking bay like he weighed nothing. Their eyes had met as he pounded on the glass, trying to reach her, help her, and he'd seen the smile on her face, the satisfaction that he at least would get out of this alive. The pain in his heart had felt like he was dying, agony beyond anything he'd ever felt before.

When Coran had snapped at him, furious at his loss, Shiro hadn't denied it. All he had done since he'd returned to the Green Lion had been stare at his hand, at the thread that now led God only knew where. His hand trembled when he thought of where Allura was, and what might be happening to her.

“We're going to go get her,” he said, clenching his fists.

“Maybe we shouldn't.”

Everyone stared at Keith. For the first time in his entire time of knowing him, Shiro hated the sight of him. Did he even understand what he was saying?

“We're going to deliver the universe's only hope to the universe's greatest enemy,” Keith continued. “What good will we do Allura by handing over Voltron?”

He backed away when Shiro stepped into his personal space, face inches from his. “Tell me, what would _you_ do?” he said, voice dangerously steady. Keith glanced past him, and Shiro knew who to. He swallowed.

“I would stay here,” he said, trying to sound as calm as Shiro did. But there was a tremor, the slightest waver that told Shiro he was lying through his teeth.

“We're _going_ to _get her_ ,” he replied. This wasn't even a choice. “I'll go alone if I have to.”

“Don't be stupid,” Coran snapped. Shiro turned, ready to challenge him, but Coran's face was soft. “You're not the only one who cares about her.”

“That's great and all,” Pidge said, “but we need to figure out how we're _getting in_.”

Upon the holoscreen was the largest, most formidable-looking fortress Shiro had ever seen. It dwarfed even the Castle of Lions, and the thought of what lay inside, thousands upon thousands of fleets and soldiers was more than a little intimidating. But Allura was also there, and Shiro couldn't leave her.

Formulating a plan of invasion took longer than Shiro would have liked. All the way through it, Keith was mutinously silent, and stood as far away from Lance, who was scanning Zarkon's command base for any feasible way in, as possible. It was Coran that found a chink in the daunting defences. 

“We can scan for her when we arrive to pinpoint her location...” he began.

“No need,” Shiro said. He'd found her once, he could find her anywhere. Coran frowned.

“They're tied together,” Hunk explained. “Their thread. Shiro can follow it.”

“Allura... mentioned it. She said it was...” Coran faltered, glancing at Shiro. He didn't need to say it.

“They're real,” Lance said firmly. “Now, let's go get her?”

* * *

He could see it, leading from his cockpit, thin and barely visible in the vacuum of space, but there, present, something he could follow. He directed them towards it, head-on, dodging fighters and fire alike, Voltron's sword cutting through battle cruisers like butter.

“She's in Zarkon's ship!” Shiro said, but then he froze.

A voice echoed in his mind, deep, menacing, filling him with dread. _You were a fool to bring Voltron here._

And just like that, with a lightning flash of pain, Voltron dissolved into its component parts, the Lions being flung apart like a child tearing a toy to pieces.

_“Fuck!”_ Lance exclaimed.

_“Why do I get the feeling these guys knew we were coming?”_ Keith said, and the four of them darted away to deal with the horde of Galra fighters pouring, like a swarm of hornets, from one of the rings of Zarkon's command centre.

Shiro couldn't do anything. Black was unresponsive, no matter how hard he tried to break through to her, enveloped in some purple, malicious energy that was drawing them into Zarkon's main ship.

_Your connection is weak,_ the voice said with cold mockery, and Shiro found himself in space, spinning away from Black as she was slowly being swallowed by the tractor beam.

And now Shiro had to choose: the Black Lion, or Allura? He briefly allowed himself, perhaps indulgently, to wonder how she'd react if she knew he'd gone after her and not Black. She'd be furious.

He gritted his teeth. “I'm going after the Black Lion!” he said. “You guys have to get the Princess! Coran, scan for her energy!”

_“Shiro, wait-”_

He tore a hole in the side of the ship, shielding his face against the decompressing air that shot from it, and leapt in.

* * *

Allura ran. As briefly happy to see Hunk as she had been, she'd never been angrier, or more frightened. Somewhere in Zarkon's ship, Shiro was in pain, and she could almost feel it like it was burning on her own skin. And there was the terror, the unadulterated terror, that Zarkon would reclaim what he still saw as his right. If the Black Lion were to fall into his hands...

She dashed into the docking bay, heedless of everything else. There was Shiro, his motions erratic and desperate, hounded by that horrible witch she'd encountered earlier – no, there was a myriad of them, all laughing cruelly as they toyed with him.

“Which one's the real one?!” Hunk asked, but she barely heard. She rushed towards the Haggar that looked most solid, her thick bracelets humming with electricity. She punched, and the hag went flying with a screech, teleporting into thick black smoke. Allura looked around, but couldn't see her.

“We've got to get out of here!” she said. With Hunk propping Shiro up, holding him steady, they quickly dashed towards the exit.

* * *

It was all a blur after that. When Shiro woke up, Black's systems were so extensively damaged she could barely flicker. And she was still distant, as if their connection were through a thick fog. He looked down at his hand, and the thread once again reached into the sky. But it was there, it was visible and solid and not snapped, and that was what was most important. He would worry about the broken ribs later.

Keith found him tending to his wounds with the strange purple goo he'd found in Black's cockpit. He sat on the metal floor next to him, a bloody bandage tied haphazardly around his head, his arm in a sling.

“I fucked up,” he murmured.

“We all fucked up,” Shiro replied. He'd let Allura get captured, he'd let the Black Lion be controlled by Zarkon, he'd let himself get his ass handed to him by Haggar... he'd made a poor excuse for a leader. And a poor excuse for a Beholden.

“What do we do now?” Keith asked in a small, childlike voice Shiro had never heard before. Keith could be insecure, but it was always in a belligerent, stubborn, him-versus-the-world kind of way. This was entirely new, and when Shiro looked at him, he saw, for the first time, just how young Keith was: barely on the cusp of eighteen, and always so _alone_...

“We wait for rescue,” Shiro replied. “We try to fix the Lions as best we can and... and we wait. We're going to get through this, Keith. Together.”

He placed a hand on Keith's good shoulder. Keith's face scrunched up, like he was fighting back tears, and he nodded with the sort of determination that meant he truly believed what Shiro had said, even if Shiro didn't quite believe it himself.

That night, Shiro stared at his thread, and wondered whether she was thinking about him as well.

* * *

Allura jerked awake at the gentle touch on her shoulder. She turned blearily and blinked at the someone who'd awoken her, trying to bring them into focus. Her body burned with exhaustion, her limbs shaking from lack of food, her eyes on fire.

“You need to rest, Allura,” Coran murmured.

“I was resting,” she said irritably. “You woke me.”

“I mean a proper rest,” Coran said. “You're not doing the Paladins any favours by running yourself into the ground. They won't be found any quicker.”

The rational part of Allura, the Altean part, heritage of millennia of diplomacy and mediation, knew perfectly well that he was right. The castleship knew the imprint of their quintessence, it would find them, no matter how long it took, as soon as they came within range of the sensors. But it didn't stop her from worrying, and staring at the holoscreen in quiet hope, and praying to deities she didn't even believe that they were all safe. That he was safe, and that they all be found soon.

“I can't help it,” she said, rubbing her arms in an effort to comfort herself. “Knowing they're out there, alone, helpless... I can't sleep.” Indeed, she'd only dozed off because her brain had just shut down, too tired to stay awake any more.

Coran knelt beside her chair, taking her hand between his. “I know how worried you are,” he said. “I'm worried, too. We sent children and a broken man off to war, and we couldn't even keep them together. But we'll find them, Allura. We _will_ find them. Rest.”

Allura looked at him, their gazes locking, both unwavering for a moment, before she dropped hers. She sighed.

“Very well,” she mumbled, heaving herself from her seat and making her slow, tired way to her bedchamber.

The mice were there, waiting, and their tiny warmth did little to make her any happier, despite how hard they tried. Her heavy eyes slipped closed.

* * *

_“Mother! Mother!”_

_Queen Anarrima turns with a smile to her small daughter, opening her arms to gather her within them. “What, sweetling?”_

_“I had the strangest dream!” Allura says._

_“Oh? What was it of?”_

_“I was standing in a meadow, but it didn't look like a meadow here on Altea... the flowers all looked different. There was a boy standing there, he looked like he was the same age as me, and he had black hair and round ears!”_

_“Round ears? Goodness me, how bizarre!” the Queen exclaims._

_“He smiled at me and he looked very handsome even though his ears were ugly,” Allura continues. “Then the wind blew my hair in my face and I couldn't see, and when I tucked it away I felt... taller? Like I was older. And there was a man there instead, and he had white hair and a scar across his nose and he was still smiling. He reached out his hand and there was a thread tied to his little finger, a silver thread... then I woke up!”_

_The queen is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “Did you take the man's hand, sweetling?” she asks._

_Allura shakes her head. “I wanted to, but I didn't get to, because Piya jumped on the bed and woke me up!”_

_“I see! How naughty of Piya, we shall have to scold her for it.”_

_Allura nods gravely, her arms looped around her mother's neck. “Should I tell Father about the dream?”_

_“Not yet, sweetling,” the Queen says with a smile. “Soon, but not yet.”_

* * *

Allura woke from the dream with an audible gasp, startling the mice from their places on her pillow. She _had_ seen Shiro before. Of course, now it made sense.

She'd dreamt of him, countless years ago. And she'd forgotten, of course she'd forgotten, It hadn't mattered then, and dreams of before Altea's destruction were something she chose to ignore, shying away from the inevitable pain...

She pressed a hand to her mouth. He'd had the thread, in the dream. She could see it again, now, the memories coming back in surprisingly vivid snatches: the sunlit meadow, the dainty wildflowers she'd never seen the like of before, the smiling boy who turned into a smiling man... And the thread. The way she'd raised her hand to take his, ready to walk beside him wherever he went, and seen the thread tied to herself.

“So stupid!” she said, punching her own temples lightly. “Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Allura!”

Yimi, tiny head cocked to the side in confusion, pattered up her knee, concern drifting through their connection.

“I'm fine,” she said reassuringly, stroking him, “just very, very foolish.”

When she found Shiro, by the stars, she was going to fix this mess.

* * *

Days turned into weeks. The weeks became four. Red had mended herself rather quickly, and even though Shiro had suggested Keith go and attempt to find the Castle of Lions or at least something useful off-planet, he'd refused. Black had taken longer to get back to being functional, but she was close to it now: she still couldn't fly, but she could limp around, which was better than nothing.

But Shiro was growing tired. He was tired of staring at the sky and hoping, he was tired of having to be strong. He was also restless, irritated, and it was growing to the point where he couldn't hide it any longer.

He lashed out, snarled at Keith, said something cruel and bitter he didn't mean and didn't think.

Keith's jaw dropped and he looked so hurt and vulnerable, and Shiro had never felt so humiliated and sorry in his life.

“Keith, I...”

He blinked when Keith grabbed the sides of his head and stared him straight in the eye.

“Listen,” he said, “we're going to get off this planet. We're going to be found. You're going to run into Allura's arms and everything is going to be ok. We're going to make it, Shiro.”

And in that moment, Shiro knew Keith had it in him to be a leader, to be something more than the impulsive lone wolf the world had kicked to the kerb. He nodded.

“I... I know. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be, I'm fucking terrified as well.” He looked at his hand, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “You know... when we get back, I'm telling Lance how I feel. I'm gonna ask him on a date. And if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out.”

Shiro reached out and ruffled his hair, something he knew Keith hated loving. “That's surprisingly mature of you, Keith.”

Keith batted his hand away with a scowl. “Yeah, well... a thread's a thread, right?”

Shiro smiled slightly. “Very true.” He looked at his own, remembering how it made him burst with joy seeing the person on the other end, and...

And there was a rumble, a cavernous, booming whoosh, like the sound of engines. Dust whipped around the two of them, blowing their hair out of their faces, and in front of them, proud and the most beautiful sight Shiro had ever seen in his life, was the Castle of Lions, landing with the precision only Allura and Coran knew how to bring to piloting.

Shiro and Keith exchanged a look, both grinning, and stood up from their spot on Black's front paw. The dust settled as the engines became muted, and they waited for the doors to the castleship to open.

The first ones to them, to Shiro's immense relief, were Pidge, Hunk and Lance. There were tearful hugs and not-so-tearful hugs, and Shiro noticed Keith and Lance holding each other's gazes, moving closer to each other, both looking like they were ready to say something important... He was distracted, though.

Allura stood there. She looked exhausted, but so radiantly happy beneath the weariness that his heart skipped a beat, before speeding up to twice its normal rate.

“Welcome back,” she murmured, soft, tentative. He nodded, unsure of everything. Had anything changed? Had nothing changed at all? He had no idea what to do.

While he hesitated, she acted. She raised her hand, placed it on his arm, squeezed once with a small smile that to Shiro seemed affectionate, and he had no idea whether this was wishful thinking or reality.

“We'll talk once you're out of the healing pod,” she said.

* * *

Shiro's ribs had been the worst of the injuries the two had sustained, and thus required a fraction more time within the healing pod than Keith's broken arm. Allura waited patiently, sitting on the step in front of the pod, her legs tucked beneath her, and if her position seemed peculiar to the others, none of them mentioned it.

With a hiss, cold air escaped from the pod, and Shiro stepped out, shaking his head to clear it.

“Did I miss anything?” he asked.

“Not in the ten minutes you were still asleep after me,” said Keith, grinning at him. Allura let them talk, let them welcome him back and share anecdotes, hanging back from the party. Her mind was elsewhere, entirely focused on how to even explain to him that...

As the Paladins made to leave, she touched his left arm, enough to make him stop and look at her.

“Can we talk, Shiro?” she asked. “Or... would you rather wait until later?” Perhaps that was wiser. He'd just left the pod, he was still weary, still tired, still recovering from weeks stranded on that desert planet... To her relief, he smiled, nodding.

“Sure. You guys go on ahead.”

Lance's smirk went from ear to ear. “Sure we will...” he said, voice thick with innuendo, making Allura roll her eyes.

She waited until they were gone to sit back down, and Shiro sat beside her. And she found she had a more pressing thing to say, a question she needed answered.

“Shiro... do you love me because of your thread, or because of me?” she asked.

His eyes widened. He was silent for the longest time, and his silence terrified her. What did it mean?

“I thought... it was obvious?” he said. She frowned.

“Shiro...”

He shook his head, took her hand, the left, of course.

“Listen, I... the thread just lead me to you. It doesn't really mean destiny. People die and threads snap, some people don't have them, sometimes you hate the person at the end of it, sometimes you never get to meet them and you make do. Allura... I _love_ you. I love you beyond what this thread means. It's important, but damn, it's not everything.” His eyes locked on hers, deep, rich brown, like the fertile Earth. “Even if there was no thread, I'd still love you. _You_ are everything.”

She bit her lip to stop it from quivering. She lowered her head, allowing her hair to fall around her face, curtaining her from his gaze.

“I dreamt of you,” she murmured.

“What?”

“As a child, I... I dreamt of you. I saw you, and I saw the thread.” She raised her head again, and turned her hand until her palm was flush with his. “And I've come to realise how much you mean to me. How much I love you as well. The dream doesn't matter, but it happened, some string was plucked in the universe's composition and it knew we were going to meet and...”

Her voice faded as she became unable to form words under the weight of his gaze. He cupped her cheek, so gentle, his metallic touch cool against her skin. She drew in a deep breath, and leaned closer to him, eyes half-lidded. He met her halfway, their lips pressed together, and she let her eyes flutter shut, sinking into the sensation and his embrace with a sigh of relief.

Pulling away from the kiss was like leaving half her heart behind, and the pain was only lessened by the knowledge it wouldn't be the last they shared. She pressed her forehead to his in the Altean fashion, the gesture beyond intimate as she clasped their hands together, and she could feel it... Her energy gently caressing his, mingling, mixing perfectly in a way that made her veins sing and her heart soar.

He gasped softly, eyes slipping closed again, and she giggled, a brighter sound than she had uttered since waking up from her ten thousand year slumber.

“I love you,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied.

* * *

He let her lead him through the corridors of the ship, her hand warm and strong around his. He admired the rippled of her pale hair and tantalising glimpses of her neck and shoulder he could see as she moved. He could feel it, an anticipation he hadn't felt in so long, hot under his skin, electric in his veins. He kept his hopes to himself, biting his tongue, but she looked back, smiled a smile that was pure temptation, and pressed a hand to the lock outside her room.

She closed the door behind him, pushed him against it, and her body against his. She was warm, and _so close_... Her kisses were light, though, barely there, brushed gently against his lips, his chin, his neck. He exhaled, sliding his hands down her sides, feeling the curve of her under his palms in a way he'd longed for since God only knew now.

“I'm not misreading this, am I?” he asked.

“If by that you're asking whether I want you,” she replied, “the answer is yes. A thousand times yes.”

His shoulders lost their tension and he allowed his hands to wander further. He cupped her buttocks, pulled her closer, slid a leg between hers and she ground against him, gasping softly.

“It's not some one-off tryst, either?”

Her eyes opened. They glowed slightly in the gloom of her chambers, her lips somewhat parted, her breath quickened.

“No, it most certainly isn't,” she said. She kissed him again, deeper this time, with more force, as if trying to reassure him. “I love you, Shiro. I don't say that to people I have no intention of being with.”

“Good. I... _Good_.”

She yelped when he lifted her up, one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. She frowned, unimpressed, at his grin, but allowed him to place her on the bed and kiss her, deep and slow and long. She melted into it, humming, her hands circling the back of his neck, her leg sliding up his thigh.

Then she flipped him over, her wicked grin going right to his cock. She loosened her hair, letting it fall like a white cascade around her, and reached behind herself to unzip her combat suit, revealing soft brown skin Shiro was desperate to touch. He slid his hands along her still-clothed thighs, onto the warmth of her bare stomach, and cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples with his thumbs. She shivered, biting back a moan, and ground down, into his erection, making him buck into her, into the delicious friction he needed so badly.

He let Allura lead the way, obeying her when she ordered his clothes off, despite his self-consciousness in baring his scars. She didn't linger on them, her eyes and hands instead trailing over all of him, licking her lips when she caught sight of his exposed cock.

“Oh, stars above,” she breathed, her finger twirling around the head, following the thick vein on the underside. He let out a groan, rough and broken, and she smiled, taking him firmly in hand and slowly, agonisingly slowly, caressing him.

He pulled her close, squeezing her pert ass, leaving kisses and soft bites on her neck, lowering himself to suck hungrily at one of her nipples, rolling it with his tongue. One of his hands left her ass and slid to the front, his fingers finding her slick folds, teasing along them. His thumb circled her clit, flicking it, and dear God, his mind was ablaze with all the things he wanted to do to her... he wondered how she tasted, how loud she was when she came, what gorgeous expressions ecstasy would paint on her face...

“Enough,” she gasped. She gripped his length, holding him still, and shifted, hovering above him, cunt tantalising close to taking him in.

“Wait, wait... is it ok?” he asked. She nodded, clearly impatient.

“Yes, yes, it's fine, it's fine...” she babbled, and sank down, impaling herself on him with a heady moan, her head tossed back, eyes fluttering closed. Shiro groaned at the feeling of her dewy heat around him, hands tight on her hips, fighting to keep his own still. Her lips met his, the kiss long and deep as she settled, flush against him, clenching around his cock in a way that made his head spin.

“Move, my love,” she panted. “Let me feel you.”

And how could he disobey such a request? He began to thrust, heels digging into the bed as he drove his hips up, sliding from her and sinking into her again. Just the sight of it was enough to drive him mad, but there was the rest of her to admire: the halo of her hair around her, her lips parted around sultry moans, the bounce of her breasts as she moved with his rhythm... Her hands dug into his chest, her hips rolled into his, their movements matching in a steady, delicious counterpoint.

He wanted her closer, though. He surged up, making her yelp and laugh, winding his arms around her and pulling her close. Her arms slid round his shoulders, scratching welts on his skin, andhe peppered her neck with kisses, lingering on certain spots, sucking heavily to leave purple blooms that he would know were there, but would be hidden to everyone else beneath the high collars of her clothes.

Their pace quickened, bedroom-dark voices tangling on each other's names, and Shiro could feel himself getting closer, closer, his climax tantalisingly within reach. He slid his hand between them, finding her clit with his thumb again, flicking her relentlessly. Her voice hitched, her cunt clenching around him, and she was close too, so close, he could feel it...

She tilted his head up, into a furious, hungry kiss, and her core rippled around him, tight and hot. He swallowed her cry of ecstasy and with two more thrusts went rigid deep inside her, coming more powerfully than he could remember.

Their lips fell away from each other, panting for breath, arms wrapped tight around one another. She clung to him, limbs trembled, smile wide and satisfied. God, she was beautiful like this, her hair a thick curtain around them, the scent of sex heavy on the air.

“I love you,” he murmured, relieved he could finally say it as much as he liked. She giggled, such a sweet sound, and nuzzled his cheek.

“As do I,” she replied.

He settled them back down on the bed, cradling her against his chest, unwilling to let her go. Fortunately, she didn't seem like she wanted to move at all, lips trailing across his collarbone, fingers playing his spine like a musical instrument.

“You realise this... makes us vulnerable?” she whispered. He hummed.

“I know. I'm not going to give this up, though. I'm going to fight as hard as I can.”

He could feel her smile against his skin. “I know you will, my Paladin,” she said. “And, stars above, I'm going to fight as hard as I can as well.”

“Just... don't fastball special me without my consent, next time,” he muttered. She pulled away, one eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Fastball special?” she asked, bewildered. He chuckled.

“I'll explain later.”

* * *

As much as Coran didn't truly believe in destiny, or even these threads that seemed so important to their human friends, he knew, from the weight of experience, when something was good for someone. No one could fight a war on determination alone. So he found a blanket for Lance and Keith, who had fallen asleep together on one of the couches in the recreation room, and placed a breakfast tray in front of Allura's door with enough food for two, and returned to his own bed with an affectionate sigh.


End file.
